French Exit

Susan:
Well, it's all very moving, I'm sure.

Malcolm:
What?

Susan:
Your devotion to a woman who didn't hardly introduce herself to you until you were twelve years old. Your refusal to live beyond the rules she's written for her own benefit. [holds up a flower] You don't bring flowers to someone you're saying goodbye to, Malcolm. [she hands him the flower] Please leave me alone.

Franklin:
Hey, Malcolm?

Malcolm:
Yes, Dad?

Franklin:
What do you think of all this?

Malcolm:
Of all what?

Franklin:
Your mother wants to kill your father.

Malcolm:
Yeah.

Franklin:
Any thoughts on it?

Malcolm:
To be honest, Dad, I'd just as soon not get involved.

Franklin:
Nice. That's nice. That's family for you.

Malcolm:
[clears his throat] I guess what I really mean to say, dad, is: I don't know that it's fair for you to ask me to weigh in on something so personal as this considering the fact that I don't know who you are, have never known who you are, and not because I didn't want to but because you never so much as parted the curtain for me, never showed me the slightest preference or kindness, even as a child, when I worshipped you and all I ever wished for was for you to take me by the hand and walk me through any motherfucking park, pat me on the f***ing head, for Christ’s sake was I that repellent a creature to you?

Malcolm:
If I win, you take your bag and leave - alone.

[Tom beats Malcolm a arm wrestling]

Tom:
Wait a minute. What do I win?

Malcolm:
Nothing. Everything's exactly the same as before.

Malcolm:
Can I ask you a very dramatic question?

Frances:
Yes.

Malcolm:
Why did you have me in the first place?

Frances:
That is dramatic. [pause] It wasn't planned, of course. I thought I couldn't have children, and had never wanted one. Then, when it happened, we thought your presence could help us come together. You were a last ditch effort, in effect. But then, when he saw you, it clarified something for him, and he turned away forever, from you and me both.

Malcolm:
But I shouldn't hate him.

Frances:
Your father is an emotional moron, but he isn't evil.

Frances:
Your wife of long years, who only days earlier wanted to murder you, has experienced a sudden and mysterious shift in feeling for the good. Is that not noteworthy?

Franklin:
I guess so. But Frances?

Frances:
Yes?

Franklin:
I'm a cat.

Frances:
I know that.

Franklin:
I'm a cat living under a bench, and it's raining, and I've got worms and fleas and, you know, I'm not much concerned about anything besides the unhappy facts of my horrible -- my truly horrible, miserable f***ing existence.

Young Malcolm:
What was jail like?

Frances:
Not really very much fun.

Young Malcolm:
What was the food like?

Frances:
[smiles] You're getting it.